


Worth a Thousand Words

by afractionof (greensunsky)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Dave's POV, Deaf!Bro, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 07:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greensunsky/pseuds/afractionof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Dave Strider and  you have no idea what you're doing. Whatever it is though, it better make these two idiots happy because spur of the moment flights to good old Seattle, WA aren't cheap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth a Thousand Words

**Author's Note:**

> Based loosely off a post on tumblr-- where this is also posted. 
> 
> Also, quick thanks to everyone that has read the other junk posted on this account. :)

Your name is Dave Strider and you can't believe you're doing this. 

Well, actually, you can. 

Because there's only a handful of people you'd say are really important and when you say important you mean to you because who gives a fuck about what other people think. 

Bro though, he's at the top of that list. No question about it.

He raised you without any complaints, never failed to feed you or make sure you felt like the most special little shit on birthdays and Christmas and he never once left you floundering when you needed him the most. If he kicked your ass on a regular basis, well, you figure that was a good thing. He made sure you'd never be defenseless, that you were always prepared just in case and maybe he kept your attitude in line, even if that's not really saying much because he's a Strider too. 

He was good to you in a lot of ways you hadn't really appreciated until recently. 

So, when it was time to go to college, you stayed in Houston, despite his urging that you go see some of the world and meet other people. You owed him and where he gave you a life and more knowledge about the real world than you could ever have gleaned from the idiotic teachers at your schools, you're giving him a friend. The coolest friend a guy could ask for, even. 

Your response to his nagging was 'fuck that' and you're pretty sure he knew why. Because, as capable as you know he is and as many arguments as you waved away, Bro's still deaf and, as far as you know, you're the only person he knows that can even sign, let alone be remotely entertaining with it. You're not just going to leave him conversation-less and bored. You know what happens when he gets bored and as much as he tries to say it's constructive, setting smuppet traps on unsuspecting people is not constructive—no matter how much their reflexes may or may not need it—and you’re pretty sure your landlady is getting tired of the plush assault of rainbow felt that drops down on her every time she opens the storage closet down the hall. 

You didn't mind staying. You like it here. You're pretty used to Houston, after all and it's worth it to keep him happy. 

Half way through your first year though, you hit a little bump in the road. 

More like a mountain. 

A snowy mountain with baby blues and buckteeth named John Egbert. 

You love John. He's your best pal, the biggest dork in existence and he takes all of your crap with that shit eating grin of his. It helps that he's pretty sure you're a dweeb too. 

Apparently though, he'd wanted to talk to Bro about something. You're still not sure what it was.

Either way, even if Bro's pretty weird, this is John and you'd figured, yeah, sure, why the fuck not and worked it out so they could trade chumhandles. 

No, not 'yeah, sure'. 

Not 'why the fuck not'. 

Not that you could have seen that one coming because you figured it'd be just one chat for whatever the hell Egderp had wanted and that would be the end of it. It's not like you expected them to pull some shit right out of one of those cheesy as fuck romance movies and go completely ass over ears for each other. 

But they did and it's almost ironic enough that you can kind of appreciate it for more than the weirdness it is. 

Alright, weirdness might be a little rough. 

You're happy. Really. It's just this is Egbert! And Bro! And, well, you guess you kind of always figured you'd be the one to find someone first. 

The moment you thought it, you'd wanted to slap yourself. You still do. Because Bro is a person just like everyone else and you didn't think you enough of a low-life shit to ever forget that, even about something like this. 

Which is how you'd found yourself shoving him in the truck one day, tossing your duffle bags in the back and getting the hell out of Texas. 

He'd been surprised and, yeah, you kinda figured he would be. It was even part of the appeal of your spur of the moment decision because if you really stopped to rethink it without the amusement, you probably would have realized that this was stupid. 

Really stupid. 

You have now reached new levels of superiority on the dumbfuck ladder. You are the dumb. It is you.

You're sure Rose would be proud of you. 

The drive from SEA-TAC to the apartment John has described for you on the other side of the city has successfully frazzled every single nerve you have but you've been trying to put on a good face because you've never seen Bro look this nervous. 

It's subtle, just like everything else, but his shoulders are tense and his fingers keep jumping against his pants. He's leaned back, attempting to relax into his usual 'giving no fucks' position but you can see the differences, the tension in his jaw from how tight he's clenching his teeth together and how he holds his arms at sharper angles than normal. 

Maybe you should apologize. 

But, no. 

Because you're already here and you're sure as fuck not going to apologize for doing something that he'd probably have put off until god doesn't even know when. He would have dicked around until Egbert finally gave up because the idiot is too dumb to actually keep pushing all the tactless advances he's made so far and, just-- fuck. You love them both. If they can be happy stuck together then god damn it, you'll be the glue and give them a little help. 

Bro's hand settles on your leg and when you glance over he's gesturing to the stop light. 

It's green and you mumbled out a sorry under your breath because you've probably been sitting there like an idiot for a good handful of minutes. There's no honking behind you though, or irritated swearing filtering in from beyond the windows and you guess it can't have been too long. You almost laugh at how John really does come from a different world. 

A world that's cold as fuck and has you wishing you would have bought a parka for this little excursion. 

As you continue down the road, Bro's hand doesn't leave your leg and you set yours over it. He's a little shaky but you'll never comment on it. That's not how the two of you work. It's not about calling out when you're needed but just being there. 

You just wish you knew what to say-- to ease his nerves and make this a little easier on him but you don't. Because as sure as you are that Egbert is just as into Bro as Bro is into him, you can't shake a little sliver of doubt and for all of your hot air, you can’t find ten fucking words to make him feel better. 

And Fuck. No. 

No, no, no. 

You did not just hop your ass on a plane and fly it half way across the country for this to go down the shitter because you start doubting the affections of your best friend. 

You stomp out that train of thought with a ruthless boot to its imaginary ass and drive in relative silence for the next thirty minutes. Bro's tapping his foot more and more the longer you're in the car and you nearly cheer when the right building number comes into sight. Your heart though, is trying to claw its way out of your body and has jumped into your throat. For a moment, you're almost excited because this will be the first time you've ever actually met John in person. You're going to meet your best bro and it's kind of exciting in a weird way that makes you want to vomit and you're suddenly even more worried. 

Can Bro actually do this? 

When you stop the car you lean forward and rest your head against the steering wheel. 

"What. The actual fuck," you mutter. "Of course he can." 

You can't believe you even thought that. 

The hand on your leg moves up, settling on your shoulder and squeezes gently. When you glance over, Bro is adjusting his shades and shrugs at you. You know what the shrug means. You've seen it a million times and even though it has four hundred possible interpretations, you know he's saying something along the lines of 'it's cool, I'm cool, let's do this because it's happening, we're making it happen'. 

You have mastered the art of reading the shrug. 

Before you can give into the overwhelming urge to do something unforgivably lame, like crawl over the center console and squeeze the life out of him, you nod and get out of the car. Because, like he said, this is happening and there's no sense in waiting around. 

But, as it happens, you end up waiting around anyway. For a solid three hours and you want to strangle yourself because it's Tuesday and John has a class on Tuesday in the afternoon and you are a fucking idiot for not remembering. 

So, the two of you sit in the hall which is a hell of a lot warmer than the front steps and profusely thank all the gods you can name that the landlady is just the kind of landlady you'd expect John to have and let you into the building without a fuss when she saw you standing around. 

You're nearly asleep when you hear the elevator doors finally open with that chirpy little 'ding' and the jingling of keys. Beside you, Bro tenses and your heart does a couple acrobatic maneuvers you're almost proud don’t make your chest explode when you look up. 

John's... well, John's John and he looks exactly like he does when you call each other on Skype but holy fucking shit is he a lot taller than you'd thought he'd be. 

Christ, he's got to be nearly as tall as Bro and damn are you jealous. 

His eyes are even bluer in person, something you were pretty sure wasn't all that possible and you can feel yourself kind of staring and you can't really blame him when he stops half way down the hall. 

There's a long silence and after what seems like forever, Bro finally stands up. He gestures for you to do the same and it's childish, but you almost don't want to get up because you're going to look tiny as fuck standing next to him and oh my god, this is John and John is really real and you think you might be freaking out more than Bro is and you’re not even here to confess anything more suited for a romance movie than real life. 

You get up though, giving him your usual expression because there’s no way you’re going to show just how much you want to pull your hair out and adjust your shades. 

"Dave?" 

It's a question but not a question and you don't get a chance to answer before John's cleared the distance down the hall, dropped his bags and you're being lifted by arms that are a lot stronger than you'd thought Egderp would have. 

"Hey, yo, chill," you say but you're shaking and you hold on tight for the minute or so he has you in the air. 

He's babbling but you don't even hear what he's saying because your eyes are locked on Bro and he's actually fidgeting. 

Fidgeting. Bro. 

"Okay, okay," you mumble, wiggling away from the bear hug John's giving you. Your hands smooth over your shirt and you clear your throat as you adjust your sleeves. "We need to talk about something really quick." 

"What? Oh, okay, yeah!" John's nodding and, as usual, you can just hear his typing. It's always weird to you. “Jesus, Dave, you’re at my house. You’re real! Well, I mean, I knew that because we’ve chatted before and everything but why are you at my house? And why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

You hold up a hand to silence his excited verbal vomit and no, you definitely don’t smile. Your lips are just doing that wiggling thing that sometimes happens and you force them back down. 

"Right, we’ll get to that later but listen up. It's pretty simple." You tip your head to the side where Bro is standing and jab a finger into Egbert's chest. "This is Bro as I’m pretty sure you’ve figured out, right? Right. He's got something to say to you and you need to keep your mouth shut until he's done, you hear me?" 

You probably sound like a prick. But, then again, when don't you. 

John's looking a little confused and you just stare at him, adding a little bit of that unimpressed eyebrow quirk Bro taught you, until he nods and looks over to Bro expectantly. 

His hands are stuffed in his pockets and you almost feel bad because you guys just don't really do that feelings bullshit. Yeah, you hash some crap out once in a while between bleeding all over the roof but you don't exactly go out of your way to get all touchy-feely-mushy-movie on each other. 

You take a step back, turning on your heel to wander a few steps down the hall. 

You're not leaving, fuck that. But you can give them a little bit of pretend privacy, at least. 

There's silence for a long time and you almost expect John to open his big fat mouth and, when you hear it, you're glad you're not facing them because you can’t help yourself and you smile. 

You love Bro's voice. It's soft but really crisp and firm when he’s got it together and you know how much time he put into getting his words to be crystal clear for this. He still trips over things and half the time you've got to tell him to turn up the volume because you can hardly fucking understand anything but once he levels out he's good. 

And right now, he's good. You can hear it, a little choppy but... but it's good and his volume is level and your chest is so tight you think it might rip right down the center. 

"Nice t'actually meet ya." 

You take a slow breath hoping that maybe you can telepathically get him to relax because his words are kind of stringing together and you know how he hates that. You can almost hear him wince and you know he's probably playing with the little note he folded up on the plane and stuffed in his pocket. 

You figure it's in case he can't get the words out. But you know he can do it. He can, he can, he can and damn it, you're really fucking proud of the guy that's always been the one saying that kind of shit to you. 

Jesus.

How many cards has he gotten you for your birthday or weird holidays? How many notes did he stuff in your bag telling you to kick some ass for whatever you were doing? How many times had he made sure you knew how much he loved you and supported whatever you were doing, even if it was kind of stupid and awkward at the time? 

Kids used to ask about your parents and then get this sad look when you said you didn't have any and you never understood because Bro was there. 

He didn't pretend to be your dad or anything else because you never needed a dad or a mom or a big family or anything like that as long as you had Bro. You're not even sure you'd know what to do with anyone else anyway because the two of your understand each other. 

He gets you and you get him and there is no one better. No one will ever be better in your opinion. 

He worked his ass off to give you everything you could have wanted and then some. If you lived in a tiny apartment, if it wasn't as clean as it could have been, if you ate pizza more than once a week a few times or spent more than one night letting him stitch you up after a strife, well, it doesn't even matter. It doesn't matter that you stayed at home alone at night when he was out DJing or that he might have done a few things most 'good' people wouldn't have done. It doesn't matter if he's the guy that changes oil down the road on Thursdays or is sewing up shirts for people in the complex or making good old fashioned porn films. It might not be conventional but who the fuck even cares. 

Because he's a good guy, as weird as he might be and no one will ever change your mind and if they want to try, you'll knock their teeth out for them. 

He deserves to be happy and as you listen his words get a little steadier and you can hear the practiced lines coming out cleanly cut and just the way he'd want them. 

You don't get to hear Bro speak often but, when you do, it's kind of like waking up early on Christmas. You know it's gonna be great but it's also going to end eventually. But, it'll come back. It just might be a while. Kind of like that one phrase you know he wants to say but never actually will because he's too Bro for that and it’s way too early for that shit. 

He'll get there, you guess. Eventually all of that 'would like to' will turn to 'would love to' and he'll get less stuck on the things he can find wrong with this weird relationship they might have going and then focus more on how happy it obviously makes him. 

John better understand how lucky he is. 

You think he will though. You know him, how he is, how he throws himself whole heartedly into everything and you're pretty sure he's not going to change any time soon. 

You're not really surprised when Bro finishes that it takes John a couple seconds to respond but when he does you actually laugh because he's so genuine it hurts. 

"Yes." 

It's one word but it's the right one and you glance back at them when you hear shoes scraping against the floor. Predictably, Egbert has yanked Bro into a hug. It looks pretty cozy and you turn fully, leaning against the wall while you wait. 

When John pulls, he's smiling. It's a little wider than you're used to and you can see his teeth but he doesn't seem to really notice. 

Good. Because it's pretty cute in the dorkiest way possible and you know how he feels about those things showing.

"You know, I don't care that you're deaf, right? You didn't have to hide it from me!" 

Bro just shrugs and you figure that's your cue. 

"As touching as this little scene is, we've been on a plane since fuck knows when," you start, moving back over to stand beside the two of them. They're both towering over you and you huff, rolling your eyes behind your shades. Fucking giants. "How about you feed us, Egderp, we might perish outside your door and then all then where will you be?"

He says something unflattering and you respond in kind but there's no bite to it, not that there ever really is. You're just happy you can breathe again. Your shoulders are sore from being so tense and, as you follow him into the apartment, you sigh. You really weren't looking forward to breaking your pal's legs if he hurt Bro and you might not have actually done it, but-- nah, never mind because it doesn't even matter right now. All that matters is that they both keep smiling. In the end, that's really all you're after.


End file.
